


Beautiful Thoughts

by plaidshirtjimkirk



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Space Husbands, spirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/pseuds/plaidshirtjimkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>* * * On Hiatus * * *</p>
<p>On a diplomatic mission, the crew of the Enterprise makes contact with the Ak'djura, a purely telepathic race who have long lost the ability to feel physical sensation and form bonds with one another. When a member of this society initiates a mind meld with Spock, he falls in love with what he finds there... which happens to be Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Mind to Your Mind... My Heart to Your Heart

It was a gentle touch; soft and endearing: palms cupped his chin and narrow jawbones, digits splaying along the sides of his face to press into the soft skin of his neck and behind his earlobes, thumbs grazing across the skin of his cheeks just below his dark eyes which suddenly held a great deal of expression.

Spock gazed into the depths of the eyes staring back into his own; the typical brilliant hazel they boasted was minimized by the presence of black pupils blown wide. Their noses were millimeters from touching and Spock could feel Jim's warm breaths whisper across the sensitive skin of his face, rolling off onto the pillow which held his head of slick black hair.

Jim's right thumb continued to stroke across the skin beneath Spock's left eye as Spock's own nimble digits remained securely docked on those strong masculine hips so easily accessible by their current position of Jim straddling his midsection. Warm, tan skin was a stark contrast against that of which was cool and olive, especially when both men were entwined naked on top of the burgundy blanket covering the bed.

The ship night was relatively young - an antique clock resting near the desk showed the Terran time of 23:37 - when both Jim and Spock entered the Captain's quarters together. The moment immediately after that door swished shut behind them and the privacy lock was engaged, Jim's body collided with his, human lips against his own, human hands seemingly everywhere on his body at once, the scent of human desire flooding his senses and heightening his own, heart rates increasing and then pounding, trousers quickly becoming uncomfortably too tight. A trail of clothing upon the floor served as a jagged path leading straight to the bed that Jim pushed Spock on. He fell on him immediately after and then slid his knees up to either side of the Vulcan's abdomen, bringing them to the position they currently were in.

Jim had stared into those deep, black eyes in a state of transfixed awe, looking at this being beneath him almost as if he couldn't believe he was real. Finally, the trance broke and he moved, his lips upon Spock's before moving them up to a place on his cheek not grazed by fingers, his eye, and his brow before he rested his forehead against Spock's. With his eyes closed, he gently nuzzled back and forth against it, still holding the Vulcan's face as if his palms contained a bounty of glittering diamonds.

...Jim had a gentle touch; soft and endearing. But the depth of the emotion that it carried with it and the strong feelings transmitted to Spock through it magnified its significance to the same importance as air filling the Vulcan lungs. It wasn't logical, but Spock knew it was somehow true that he wouldn't be able to survive a healthy existence without it, without this man. Such a realization was unthinkable for a Vulcan and it caused Spock unease; however, in the end, Jim was somehow always able to quell any anxiety without even knowing it existed.

With a deep inhale, the warm spiced scent of Spock flooded Jim's senses and he groaned suddenly, finally releasing the narrow face from his grasp. His hands landed on the bed and supported him as he pushed his robust torso slightly up into the air, his full blown erection dragged down against Spock's abdomen with the shift in his position. Jim's lips trailed to Spock's temple and down to one of those pointed ears now blushed in a verdant hue from arousal. “Jesus,” he growled into it as he thrust upwards, erection moving against the cool Vulcan flesh. “I'm going to fuck you.”

Spock's eyes closed and his mouth opened at the thought of what was about to come, literally. His breath hitched and then released as Jim's hips were thrown forward yet again while he reiterated his statement, his tone low and sultry as the words once more graced that ear, “I'm going to fucking fuck you.”

His cock already so uncomfortably hard, Jim slid himself down the lithe body beneath him until he was face to face with Spock's own shaft – at full attention and weeping precum. He leaned his face down, lips barely touching the sensitive organ in which he blew a breath over and watched in delight as Spock visibly twitched.

“Fuck, Spock...” Jim growled as he took the green-tinged cock in a hand and pumped it a few times. “...Look how hard you are..”

Spock raised his head, his lips still parted, chest heaving in anticipation. Just as he was about to encourage the Captain to do what he wanted (in some indirect dignified manner, naturally), Jim took the words out of his mouth by taking his cock in his own. Sucking so hard that his cheeks indented, Jim expertly moved his head up and down at a quick pace, turning his face to the side and letting the base of his tongue slide along the underside of Spock's shaft – just the way he knew he loved it. One of Spock's hands entwined with Jim's digits while the other tightly grabbed on to golden hair as he gasped quietly, his narrow hips bucking up into the heat of that human mouth. Jim allowed the head of Spock's now massively engorged dick to hit the back of his throat over and over and then enter it, the sensation stinging and causing his eyes to water. He kept this up until he gagged, lungs starving for air, moisture from one eye running down his face.

At that moment, his lips slid up the length of the shaft and made a deliberate sucking noise when the cock was released from them, springing free into the open. Jim audibly gasped for air, his hand coming back to stroke Spock's dick as his chest expanded and compressed rapidly. Spock's fingers took hold of the cover beneath him and kneaded into it, his teeth gritted slightly as he allowed himself to be utterly claimed by the feeling of the fist jerking him off. Sweat had beaded on Jim's brow by this time and he turned it into his shoulder, attempting to remove the perspiration from his face and moisture from his eyelashes.

“J..Jjjiiiimmmm..” Spock groaned then, humping up into that fist and he nearly – nearly – whimpered when he felt the digits surrounding his cock let go suddenly.

“Not yet.....” Jim said as he caught his breath. “Not yet... I have something better for you.”

Spock's head slammed against the pillow then... Jim had only given him foreplay so far and he was already ready to blow his load all over that beautiful face; it was time to employ some of that famous Vulcan resolve to keep himself from painting the entire damn room white. He raised his head again as he felt Jim reach over into the drawer beside the bed. Human eyes locked on Vulcan ones and Jim gave him a smug grin as a half empty bottle of clear fluid was procured. Spock licked his lips, eyes wide open and chest rising and falling; he suddenly found the way things were escalating – as he always did in this situation – very, very favorable.

But Jim, never being one to be predictable, simply opted to place the bottle on the nightstand. Instead, he grabbed Spock's hips within his hands and gave them a push to the left. “Turn over.”

Immediately, the Vulcan complied, his body gracefully flipping over and leaving him prone upon his stomach. So Jim planned to take him this way. That was certainly agreeable though he just might have missed being able to see the human lubricate himself... Spock's thoughts came to a crashing halt at the feeling of a hot, wet appendage upon the small of his back. A sharp inhale was sucked between his lips as he felt it slip down to the top of his crack.

It left suddenly, but the sensation of Jim's hands upon his asscheeks replaced it and Spock's eyes closed. Jim's thumbs moved back and forth in small motions, caressing the soft skin and threatening to spread him apart with any one movement. After he felt he sufficiently built enough impatience with his teasing, Jim drove his thumbs down into the crevice and pulled the cheeks apart, revealing that tiny little hole hidden between them.

The sight of it made Jim's cock jump into a full salute. Spock had one of the prettiest assholes he'd ever seen. It was perfectly shaped – so tight looking, so fucking inviting, just waiting there to take his dick. The skin around his hole was a deeper olive than the rest of his flesh and it pulled in taut to this elegant little star shape, no extra skin around the rim to be found. It was perfect.

Luckily, it wasn't there just to look at, so Jim nudged the lean Vulcan thighs as wide apart as they would go, giving him both perfectly unobstructed sight and access. Delaying no further, his tongue came out and nudged against the impossibly tight orifice.

Every nerve in Spock's body was electrified and he sucked in another deep breath at the feeling of the sudden stimulation against his overly sensitive ring of muscle. Jim's tongue prodded again and then pushed against the hole, circling around it and then flicking over it. One strong arm jutted its way beneath Spock's thigh, his hand clasping an asscheek and pulling it away while his other hand finally took hold of his own erection and began to stroke it.

Jim moaned as his tongue pushed in; he moved his face from side to side, working his skilled appendage in and out of the tiny hole. Saliva quickly gathered in large amounts, coating Spock's perineum and Jim's own face, his moans reverberating into Spock and driving him out of his mind.

Spock had buried his face into the pillow and shook his head into it, his hands taking fistfuls of the bedding once again. Expression hidden, he allowed himself to clench his eyes and teeth as the entire universe shrunk infinitely to Jim's tongue in his ass. A broken, choppy breath escaped his throat.

The scent of Spock's jewels was pleasantly strong – the same clean, spiced smell Jim could pick up from his neck and hair flooded him once again, driving him over the edge. Jim's hand tightened on the asscheek it held, his fingers digging into the globe of flesh as his other worked over his own cock which was ready to explode.

With a grunt, he sucked at the tiny opening with his lips once more before leaving it and unraveling his arm from beneath Spock's thigh. Reaching for the bottle, he raised the cap to his mouth and flipped it open with his teeth. Turning it upside down, he drizzled a copious amount of slick all over the hole he'd just coated with his own saliva and reveled in the sight of how it was slightly open already.

Next, he hastily squeezed out a sizable dollop into his own palm and lubricated his cock and fingers simultaneously. The bottle was discarded somewhere on the floor; Jim didn't recall if the lid was snapped shut or not. Oh well.

Starting with his middle finger, he drew circles around Spock's opening and then drove the digit in, first thrusting into it a few times before he slightly bent it and found that fleshy bundle of nerves. As soon as he began massaging it, Jim felt a wave of satisfaction as he heard the tiniest moan emerge from Spock's face still buried in the pillow. Spock was a rather quiet fuck, so any sound he could draw from the Vulcan was a victory for Jim. Not to disappoint one who encouraged him, Jim slipped a second finger inside of him with ease and sought out that same place. He was rewarded with another soft moan.

A third was added then and the sight of watching his own fingers so easily slipping into that throbbing entrance was maddening. Spock's muscles were strong everywhere and his asshole certainly wasn't spared that fate either; when he clenched down, Jim could feel just how compact his channel was. By this time, Jim was so turned on that his cock which had gone more or less neglected thus far was so hard that it actually ached. It stabbed into the bed, flushed an angry deep pink and begging for attention.

He slowly withdrew his digits, spending one final halfhearted second to watch them emerge from that tiny hole... How anything could actually fit in there was beyond his level of understanding. Alas, a thought for another time. Unable to wait another second, he grabbed those thin hips again, but this time rough with desperation. Jim pulled Spock up and positioned the head of his weeping cock at the opening. Complying, Spock found himself on his knees, his chest still pressing into the bed, spine forming the most beautiful curve. He turned his face to the side to reveal one deep green blushed cheek and ear, sucking in a deep breath as he felt Jim enter him slowly.

Jim watched through a haze of pure lust as millimeter by millimeter disappeared into Spock at a painfully slow rate; Spock would probably have berated him for his lack of logic seeing as he was already open and ready, but Jim was too concerned with hurting him to not go slowly at first. When he was finally completely sheathed, he groaned loudly as his eyes snapped shut; Spock was so tight, so hot that it nearly hurt. The dark verdant rim of his hole was stretched taut around his throbbing meat and it was almost too much.

He gently withdrew until the head of his dick nearly slipped out and was about to slowly move forward again until Spock's ass smashed backwards into his hips. Jim choked out a groan and taking the hint, grabbed at those lean thighs and threw himself forward.

The sounds of moaning and flesh slapping into flesh instantly filled the room as Jim tossed his hips forward rapidly, deliciously ravaging Spock against the bed. His cock nearly popped out on three occasions, the feeling sending Jim into some other dimension; the fact that Spock so eagerly was throwing his asscheeks back to meet his thrusts heightened his state of mind even further. There was no doubt that Jim was going to blow his load soon. He already prevented himself from going over the precipice multiple times and was reaching the critical point where his resolve to stop himself was shattering.

Jim grabbed Spock's waist and flipped him over onto his back. With wild eyes, Spock watched as Jim lifted up his long Vulcan legs, threw them over his shoulders, and grabbed an olive hand. He brought it to the matching olive shaft, leaving it there for Spock to jerk himself off and instantly began pounding into him again with uncontrolled thrusts and moans in his ears. The angle of his body allowed Jim to hit his prostate dead on, stars exploding behind his eyes. Following the downward angle of Spock's body, Jim leaned forward to place his lips on the side of the Vulcan's neck and let his tongue come out to taste him.

“Jim!!” Spock exclaimed suddenly, his eyes closing tightly, head shaking back and forth as if he almost couldn't stand the pleasure he felt. Jim's lips on his neck sucked at the supple flesh at the sound of his name. The incredible amount of emotion transmitted from the human was too much to take: The pure feeling of love filled him up, Jim's fathomless pleasure becoming his own, his desire for Spock and only Spock... Spock's hand pumped his cock swiftly up and down, up and down, squeezing tightly and... “ngh, ngh, Jim!! Jim!! JimJimJimJimmmmmmmnghhh!!!!!”

His swollen cock positively erupted at that moment, hot seed shooting out in four hefty loads, leaving creamy white puddles in the black hair covering his chest. Spock's eyes snapped shut, his back arched, head thrown back, mouth opened wide and gasping for breath.

“Fuck yyyyyeeeeeeeees!!!!” Jim groaned as he felt Spock's hole rapidly clench and unclench around his cock through his orgasm. He smashed his hips into Spock's, his heart pounding so fast that it felt like his chest would burst.

Spock began trembling, riding out the last waves of pleasure as his hands came up and took hold of Jim's asscheeks, clenching down on them, pulling them apart, and yet moving them forcefully forward enhancing each thrust. Jim's moans grew louder and louder as he tossed his hips haphazardly into Spock. With a final loud yell, his cock exploded and he was thrown into a mind-shattering orgasm, shooting a huge load within Spock in multiple spurts as he was swept away into some distant universe where only an immeasurable amount of ecstasy existed. He thrust himself in twice more before dropping the legs upon his shoulders to the bed and positively collapsing into the Vulcan arms ready to catch him.

Both of them were heaving for air, Jim's forehead nuzzling into the side of Spock's neck just beneath his jaw, his body wet with sweat and Spock's cum. They laid together just like that until Jim was coherent enough to lift his head into his shoulder to attempt to wipe the sweat off his brow again.

“Spock,” he said, still panting. Raising a hand to his Vulcan's cheek when he didn't receive a response, Jim spoke his name again just above a whisper. “Spock.”

Spock's eyes opened then, his gaze entwining with Jim's, arms encircling this golden-skinned human possessively.

“I love you,” Jim softly declared and took his lips into another kiss, which Spock reciprocated and deepened by opening his mouth. When Jim's tongue slipped inside, Spock found the taste of himself in Jim's mouth erotic but it was short-lived; the kiss broke so both of them could breathe large gulps of air so desperately needed still.

Jim's head crashed into the pillow next to one of Spock's ears and he laid in his arms bonelessly. Spock's eyes fell shut again but his arms never loosened around the human on top of him; if he could stay here forever and just hold him like this, he would.

After some time went by and breathing and pulses quieted, Jim slid off of Spock, his bare foot hitting the floor. Walking across his quarters, he disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments and came back with a wet cloth. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he stippled at Spock's face first, running the pleasantly hot fabric across his forehead, down his cheeks, and then his neck. Jim wiped off the jizz drying in the black hair on Spock's chest and abdomen. He then carefully cleaned off his cock and gingerly dabbed at his slackened hole, removing the excess cum that had seeped out.

Spock's eyes never left Jim the entire time he cleaned him off. He had never understood the emotion named love until he met James Kirk, and it now blossomed within his very soul. He could never imagine anyone treating him so preciously; it was a conundrum, a question he simply could not answer. Jim could have chosen anyone in this universe, and here he was...

As Jim next moved to wiping off his own body, Spock finally spoke with closed eyes. “I do not deserve you.”

Jim was in the middle of dabbing at his stomach when he stopped and simply looked down at him. “You're right.”

Spock maintained no expression as he opened his eyes to see Jim's features graced by seriousness. The human continued, “You deserve better. But for all it's worth, Spock...” He tossed the dirty washcloth into the laundry chute and returned to the bed. Sitting down, he finished his thought as he pushed the rim of black bangs neatly back into place, “...I'm very happy you're with me. ...Lights, off.” The room went dark.

Jim's hand left his face and he tugged at the disheveled blanket then. Taking the hint, Spock moved himself underneath it and slid over so the human had space to slip in beside him. Once he was under the cover, Jim pulled Spock into his arms and held him tightly, a hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I hope you always will be.”

“You do not have to hope, Jim,” Spock replied. As he felt the human's lips press to his forehead, Spock felt intense waves of love radiating from him. How he wound up here was something he was unable to fathom. His thoughts wracked through the situation again. No science could explain why he, an awkward and socially-challenged halfling, was the one Jim Kirk chose to hold in his loving arms. Perhaps there was some veracity to the old Terran saying “It is what it is.” Kaiidth.

During this quiet period of consideration, Jim's body was quickly claimed by exhaustion. He was Captain of a starship with responsibilities beyond most peoples' comprehension. Lack of sleep wasn't something foreign to him, and yet, he still made time for Spock. Spock lifted his face, his head on the same pillow, nose close to Jim's. Studying his placid face for what felt like the thousandth night, Spock reveled in the sound of his soft breathing and the feeling of his heart steadily beating. Even in his sleep, Jim projected his feelings of love to Spock.

A hand raised then, slim fingers delicately touching Jim's face and settling on his psi points. Unable to speak these words out loud, Spock chose to say them instead just like this: His eyes closed and in his thoughts, he spoke, 'I love you too, Jim.'

When Spock opened his eyes, he may have seen the man sleeping beside him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
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	2. (Lack Of) Contact

“Captain's Log, Stardate 2266.7. The Enterprise is currently on a routine diplomatic mission. Our destination is the planet Ak'dju, ETA within the hour. Ak'dju is... a world recently charted by a Federation supply ship in the Beta quadrant. The official Starfleet report stated its inhabitants are a race of telepaths... Individuals who have relied solely upon their mental capabilities for so long that all sense of physical sensation has been lost...” His voice trailed as his thoughts did, eyes half-squinted upon the viewer ahead of him, brows knitted down and lips pulled into a line. Looking down as his finger fell upon the panel button on the side of his chair, he opened his mouth and then concluded, “Our mission is to establish a relationship with the civilization on this planet. Kirk out.” He pressed it and the recording terminated.

“Well, how about that,” a voice suddenly rang out to the left of the Captain. “A race of people who lost all sense of touch... Sounds awfully lonely if you ask me.”

Jim turned his head and looked up at Doctor McCoy standing next to him with his arms folded. McCoy had that classic expression he wore when he was thinking too hard about something, his gaze fixated at no particular point upon the ground. Jim's mouth opened as he was about to speak, his shoulders rising as he took a breath first, but he wasn't fast enough...

“I am sure you are especially disappointed, Doctor,” said a second voice, this time to the right of the Captain.

McCoy's eyebrows narrowed and he raised his head, shooting a scowl across Jim's swept up golden locks, aimed at the Vulcan standing on the opposite side of the chair. “Now just what is that supposed to mean?”

Spock's hands were clasped behind his back, standing tall with his proud chin raised. He didn't bother looking at the smaller man as it was unnecessary; he already knew the nature of the facial expression he was receiving. Instead, he simply remained staring at the viewer and continued, “The inhabitants of this planet would be incapable of feeling the discomforting pinch of your injectable potions, something you appear to take great pleasure in witnessing.”

Still facing forward, Jim's lips pulled up into an amused smile, his eyes falling closed as he stopped himself from exacerbating the situation further by laughing. It wasn't often present, but Spock did, in fact, have a sense of humor. McCoy flat out turned his entire body to face the Vulcan, the Captain in his chair still nonchalantly between both of them. The doctor was slightly bent at the knees, waist, and elbows. One arm swung out to the side at his hip, the hand attached to the limb open-palmed and facing up. “Now look right here, you green-blooded computer!” One solitary pointed eyebrow raised at that. “If you go down to that planet, you'll never want to leave because you'll fit right in with no ability to feel. In that case, I hope you're in the landing party!”

“Coffee, Sir?” A tray lined with cups was presented to Jim by a short brown-haired woman fitted in a red dress uniform. Jim smiled up at her, took one, and nodded in appreciation.

“Illogical, Doctor,” Spock replied, his voice monotone and expression still unchanging as he remained staring ahead. The Yeoman then lifted the tray slightly to McCoy, offering him one of the cups but the short-sleeved man simply declined by raising his hand. Jim's eyes absentmindedly wandered after her as she sauntered across the bridge and offered coffee next to Sulu.

“You insinuate that I do not feel physical sensation as the Ak'dju people. I assure you that I have experienced the sting of your medical license on multiple occasions. It appears you are confusing the sense of physical perception with that of emotional...”

“Damn it, Spock!” McCoy snapped as he cut him off, the words expelled with a raspy breath but his volume elevated at the same time.

At that moment, Jim stood up from his chair, shoulders squared and still not shifting his view to either side. McCoy's glare fell upon him and Spock finally turned his head, directing his attention to the same man. “Gentlemen, if you would please,” the Captain's voice carried a weighty, authoritative tone to it. However, when he turned his face to look at McCoy, a sheepish grin suddenly graced across his features. The older man's blue eyes widened a little at that, his brows still forked down.

“Aw, hell! I'm headin' back to my sickbay where I'll be among good company for a change. If you'll excuse me,” grumbled the doctor. Jim brought the cup to his lips and raised his eyebrows in response as he sipped, watching McCoy strut into the lift and disappear.

It was at that moment when Chekov and Sulu both apparently felt comfortable enough to quickly exchange glances, their lips amusedly twitching at the corners before turning back to their consoles.

“Coffee, Lieutenant?” the Yeoman's cheery voice inquired as she offered her tray to Uhura.

~

A soft blue light emitted from the PADD within the Captain's hands as he scrolled through text with a stylus. Jim was sitting within the comfort of his chair on the bridge reading through a regular engineering status report. Not taking his eyes off the tablet, his hand found the communication switch on his side control panel and he pressed it. “Kirk to Mister Scott.”

Within seconds, a reply came, “Scotty here, Sir.”

“Scotty, I'm looking over your Systems Health report now and saw your recommendation for warp core maintenance.” Jim brought the stylus to his face and pushed the tip gently into his cheek. Eyes fixed to a graph embedded among the words on the small screen, he raised his brows slightly, tilted his face to the side, and questioned, “How critical is it?”

“The ship, she'll hold, Sir. Not'in tae worry aboot thare,” Scotty replied. It was ever apparent in his speech that his love for the Enterprise dared to rival that of Jim's. “Ah juist think it's aboot time tae switch aroond the Dilithium crystals an stress test the warp core. Git some streenge rea'ings earlier but still wi'in normal levels. Ma'tter uh regular maintenance at this point.”

“Understood,” Kirk acknowledged. “After we complete our business here I'll schedule a two day service layover at Starbase 105. Kirk out.”

He cut the channel after receiving Scotty's reply of, “Aye, Captain.” As Jim began scrolling through the next page, a beeping sound started emitting from the helm accompanied by a soft flashing auburn light.

After glancing over his monitors to double check readings, Sulu announced, “Entering the Ashmar system now, Sir.”

“Affirmative, Mister Sulu. Reduce speed to impulse power and then gradually to one quarter of that as we make our approach. Uhura, ready the universal translator,” the Captain ordered, handing the PADD to a nearby Yeoman.

“Aye, Sir,” Sulu replied. His hands drifted around the console before him, fingers throwing switches and adjusting dials. He then reported, “Now approaching at standard impulse power.”

“Universal translator online and ready,” Uhura announced next.

“Excellent. Open hailing frequencies,” Kirk ordered as he set his sights on a small circular blue object that appeared on the viewer: Ak'dju. It quickly began to get larger and larger as the Enterprise neared.

Uhura cocked her head to the side as she fitted her earpiece in place and then began typing at her station. Moments later she announced, “Hailing frequencies open, Sir. Standing by for reply.”

“Reducing to one half impulse power,” Sulu spoke, keeping an attentive watch on his scanner. The planet's image augmented on the main screen at a slower rate as the ship's speed lowered. Jim scoped out the rather familiar appearance before him: swirls of blue, white, brown, and green were present. The official Starfleet orders issued to the Enterprise had noted that the conditions of Ak'dju appeared similar to Earth's, both in initial atmospheric readings and in the fact that its highest intelligent lifeforms were also bipeds.

“Reducing to one quarter impulse power, Sir. Preparing to enter planetary orbit.”

Like clockwork, Spock rose from his station then and walked over to the environment scanner. Jim felt his chest once again swell with pride at how efficient this crew was; their ability to operate seamlessly on standard procedures with no overhead supervision was flawless. The accuracy and fluidity of his staff was a dream come true for any leader, but those attributes didn't just occur without a strong commander to turn them from a vision into reality. Indeed, each person serving was skilled and beyond competent, but it was the man in the Captain's chair who set the stage for performance, loyalty, and morale. And the Enterprise had the highest rating by far for all three categories in the entirety of Starfleet.

Leaning over the scanner, Spock pressed his forehead into the view piece and began the process of short range scanning. Jim's eyes followed him, taking in the sight of that lean body bent over the console. The regulation trousers adorning his lower half matched Spock perfectly, the black material clinging to the curve of his buttocks just enough to needle at Jim's imagination which was already in an eternal state of overdrive. He'd love nothing more than stepping right up behind that lithe Vulcan figure, undoing the belt about his hips, tearing away the garments covering his posterior, and taking him right there on the bridge.

These thoughts were interrupted in the same way they always were: by measurements read in a calm, steady voice.

“Short range scanners detect no imminent danger of space debris,” Spock began. “Now engaging planetary scan... Sen-sors register atmospheric composition of 79.23% nitrogen, 19.6% oxygen, 1.03% argon, 0.11% carbon dioxide, 0.03% miscellaneous elements... negligible. Temperature, 17.38 degrees Celsius. Planet composition, 79% ocean, 21% land mass.” Spock pulled away from the equipment to glance over his shoulder, his eyes instantly making contact with Kirk's. “Condition: Sustainable for crew without life support, Captain.”

“Sounds almost like Earth. Thank you, Mister Spock,” Jim replied with a slight dip of his head, holding his gaze with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Had the other bridge crew members not been concentrating on their own tasks, they would have witnessed Spock's continuance of looking into the Captain's hazel eyes for a few more moments, almost as if both men were communicating silently. But even if anyone had seen it, it would be nothing new; the Captain was a very expressive man with his eyes, mouth, and hands...This behavior was in no way atypical for Kirk.

As Uhura's station began beeping, Spock tore his attention from Jim's warm face and turned back to see if any further useful data was collected by the scan. Uhura ran a dark-skinned hand through the hair tumbling over the side of her head in soft curls to get it out of her way before taking the earpiece between the pads of her pointer finger and thumb and adjusting the metal dial. “Video transmission received, Captain,” she announced.

Jim raised a hand to his forehead, sweeping that one stubborn piece of hair that always fell out back into place. It immediately disobeyed his wishes, gracing across his supple golden skin again.

“On screen.”

“On screen, Sir,” she confirmed. The viewer switched from a familiar planet to a humanoid sitting behind what looked like a table constructed from marble, fingers entwined and thumbs steepled upon it. The being donned a majestic cloak, white as snow and lined in some kind of reflective silver. A large hood entirely concealed the face. Soft golden light illuminating the room from above shined down, making the individual appear to radiate an immaculate aura.

“Identify yourself,” a male voice spoke.

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise. We visit you in the name of the United Federation of Planets and come peacefully. We respectfully request permission to enter orbit.”

The entire bridge crew observed as the clasped digits unraveled from each other, both hands rising and clutching the heavy brim of the hood. The white material slowly slid back revealing a head of hair so golden and shimmery, it almost appeared spurious. When the hood had completely fallen back, the chin was lifted leaving a breathtaking view of a beautifully constructed male face. His skin was the color of pale, delicate porcelain. His brows were slanted in a steep inward decline framing his light blue eyes, leading to a skinny straight nose, and a pair of full pink lips. Fixated to his forehead were pear-shaped diamonds, the largest in the center with three decreasing in size on each side. Long golden hair pooled at his shoulders before falling across his chest and disappearing beneath the table. ...A rather familiar set of slim pointed ears jutted out through his locks.

His lips moved as he spoke in his native tongue, not synching with the words played by the universal translator. Jim found himself intrigued to actually hear the man's real voice, to see if it would match his appearance. “Captain Kirk, on behalf of my Ak'djura brothers, welcome. We have eagerly awaited your visit since our last communication with the United Federation of Planets. I am called Ji'ira, Official of the High Council and second in command to Minister Dalma'a. Please, have your ship enter orbit.”

“You have our gratitude for your extension of kind hospitality, Ji'ira,” Jim replied with a nod. “I understand we will engage in a face-to-face meeting. Would you and your council members prefer to be our honored guests aboard the Enterprise or should I have my diplomacy party beam down to a specific location?”

Ji'ira's reply was delayed as he waited for Kirk's words to be translated. He closed his eyes, letting his face fall into a small nod and then raise again. “Captain Kirk, I thank you for your generous offer. However, since the purpose of our meeting is to learn more about each other, I believe this would be the perfect time to invite you and your officials to experience my people's culture firsthand, starting with dinner. Would you accept?”

“With pleasure,” Kirk replied. “Thank you.”

“Very well. I will have the coordinates sent to you immediately. Kindly arrive at your earliest convenience.”

“We'll be standing by, Ji'ira. I'll assemble my team and beam down shortly.”

“Excellent. We are looking forward to meeting you in person,” spoke the long golden-haired man with a bow of his head. “Until then.”

His image disappeared as the transmission cut. Immediately, Jim stood up, stepped down to the aisle, and took hold of the red railing behind Spock. With his chin raised, the Captain turned his head to one side and asked with slightly squinted eyes, “Spock, did you see his ears?”

Spock had remained standing at his station throughout the exchange but he had not been in the camera's range to appear in the video transmission. He turned to Kirk, stoicism in his voice as he replied, “Indeed, Captain.”

“Opinion?”

“Inconclusive, Sir,” replied the Vulcan, once again holding his gaze. “We are near Romulan space. It is possible that the Ak'djura are their descendants, but there is no factual evidence on which to base that statement at this time.”

“...That was one of the most pleasant first contacts we've ever had,” Uhura spoke suddenly, her chair still swiveled to face the front of the bridge. Kirk and Spock looked in her direction to see her hand still resting upon her earpiece, her eyes glued to the screen, even though Ji'ira's image was no longer showing. “...Really, really pleasant,” she reiterated and trailed off.

Her sudden interjection was odd, but there was no time to begin prying over something that seemed trivial. Jim's hands tightened on the rail and let go quickly as he pushed himself towards the steps leading to the lift. He turned around and spoke, “Mister Spock, on me. Sulu, standard orbit procedures. Uhura, stand by for those coordinates and tell Doctor McCoy to meet us in the transporter room in fifteen minutes, official dress for the occasion. Mister Scott will have the conn in my absence.”

Uhura shook her head clear and looked up at Kirk as Spock crossed before her vision to take his place beside him. “Yes, sir.”

With that, the Captain and First Officer disappeared into the lift. After the doors closed, Uhura placed a quick call to a grumbling Leonard McCoy, delivering the message as ordered. Once she terminated communication with him, she immediately stood and quickly walked the few steps separating her post and the helm. Her hands fell on the edge near Chekov's station and she leaned over it slightly.

“Did you see him?!” she exclaimed softly to both men sitting before their consoles. Uhura was the consummate professional and never one to get all riled up over a man with a pretty face; it wasn't that, no. There was something else about him, something tugging upon her. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to glow like an expensive pearl in a jewelry case, his kind words, the exquisite garment adorning his body, the sheen of his hair, his perfectly symmetrical face, or entirely something else. All Uhura knew was that her heart beat a little faster and she had the feeling she knew this man she'd never seen before.

Chekov wore a look of consternation upon his young face, his brain obviously processing the same kind of thoughts that were racing through Uhura's. “Yes... I never tho'ght I'd say this, but... he was v'wery beautiful... A v'wery, v'wery beautiful man.”

“He didn't even seem real,” Sulu added, with a shake of his head. Looking over at Chekov first and then Uhura, he continued, “I feel like I know him. That's impossible but...”

Uhura's elegant feminine face was contorted into a squint. As she began to nod and was about to speak agreement with Sulu, her station began beeping. Wordlessly, she turned on her black heels and returned to receive the message containing beam down coordinates, leaving both helmsmen in pensive silence.

~

One tan colored hand took hold of the zipper and pulled it up against the blue fabric: up the flat stomach, up over the lean pectorals, up to the pale neck, and then fastened it in place. Jim reached to Spock's collar and adjusted it, then taking his face between his hands and kissing him on the lips. Letting go of him quickly after, he dropped his palms and slapped them upon the deceptively strong Vulcan shoulders.

“You're a handsome man, Mister Spock,” the blond concluded and turned to pick up the Captaincy medal, freshly polished and waiting on his desk. Jim looked down as he began pinning it to the breast of his green dress uniform.

“Jim,” Spock replied. “Your flattery is unnecessary.”

Jim looked up then, almost distressed as his fingers still fumbled with the pin. “You think I'm just flattering you?! --Ow!”

He stuck himself in the finger and pulled his hand away, shaking it out. Spock stepped up, deftly fastening the pin for him. Long dexterous Vulcan fingers then took the flailing human hand and brought it to his lips, where he kissed the digit that was stabbed once before replying, “It is a possibility.”

“Well, what if I told you that I thought you were the most captivating man in the entire universe... and that I'm incredibly proud you're mine?” Jim inquired, narrowing his brows in an expression nearing determination.

Spock raised one eyebrow in return and then answered, “In that case, I would say you are very talented in the art of flattery. Sir.”

Jim's mouth pulled into a line before he uttered, “Someday, you'll believe me.” He stepped away from Spock then and closed the velvet box which stored his medal when not in use. Slipping it back into its place in the safe, he stood himself up and said, “Well, let's go play the diplomat game.”

The door to the Captain's quarters swished open, Jim retreating first and Spock directly after him. Dark Vulcan eyes fixed upon the golden hair before him as they walked to the lift. What Jim didn't know was that Spock did know he was being sincere; every time the human touched him, he felt all of Jim's strong emotions coursing through his veins as if they were his very own: Deep affection, adoration, pride, possessiveness, desire...

Upon entering the lift, Jim pulled the lever and they began moving.

“Spock,” he began. “I have this strange feeling I can't shake. Are you positive there's no mention in the memory banks about the Ak'dju's relation to the Romulans?”

“Positive, Captain. There is no data linking the Ak'djura to the Romulan Star Empire.”

“Then why the pointed ears?” Kirk asked rhetorically, his eyes wandering to the red door. “Why do I feel this strange familiarity?”

“Unknown,” the tall man beside him replied with a shake of his head. “Apparently, we will find out shortly. It would be wise to proceed both amicably and cautiously.”

Jim looked back up at Spock then, both his eyes and smile soft. The lift stopped then, doors opening, and both stepped out. Upon walking into the transporter room, they saw McCoy standing in the middle of the space decked out in his blue dress uniform, his arms crossed before his chest. Scotty was positioned behind the console.

“Well, Jim, here we are again,” was how Bones greeted them upon their arrival. “You and Spock on some planet-side mission for the greater good and all that, and me away from my sickbay.”

“Doctor,” Spock began, slipping his arms behind the small of his back. “Did you not wish earlier for me to be part of the landing party?”

“Shut it, Spock,” McCoy grumbled. “You know what I meant...”

Neglecting the usual banter, Kirk walked over to the console and placed his hands upon it. “Are we all set with the coordinates, Scotty?”

“Aye, Sir. Ready tae transmit on your order.”

“Perfect,” the Captain replied. He turned on his heels and stepped onto the platform, followed by Spock and McCoy taking their place on either side of him.

Jim nodded at Scotty. “Energize.”

Their images faded away with the slow descent of three levers and just like that, they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ak'djurian Pronunciation Guide
> 
> Ak'jdu: AHK-joo  
> Ak'jdura: AHK-joo-rah  
> Ji'ira: Gee-EE-ra  
> Dalma'a: DAL-ma-a
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	3. Sacrosanctity

An ivory iridescent sheen and tiny glittering fragments embellished the empty space before figures began materializing within it. The crystalline aura surrounding them was heavy at first and then dissipated as the forms of three men solidified. He recognized the one in the middle wearing green as Captain James Kirk. An unknown shorter, brown-haired man in blue was to his left and... Ji'ira's eyes opened wider, his lips parting as his irises locked on to the one on the right. He was tall, thin, and lanky... with pointed ears and steep eyebrows.

As the transporter luster faded around them like champagne bubbles lifting to the top of a glass, Jim became coherent just in time to hear someone gasp, “Romulanura!” His honeyed eyes fell upon five individuals before him, each donning gorgeously white cloaks as Ji'ira did. The beings standing there were an attractive collection of human-like creatures – matte skin glowing with shimmery full heads of hair. However, Jim paid no attention to their physical allure; rather, his gaze fixed upon the one female who had uttered that exclamation. Her hand was raised parallel to her chin, eyes upon Spock. In fact, all Akdjurian faces were turned in the Vulcan's direction.

McCoy's eyebrows twitched and he uncomfortably fidgeted as he observed Jim immediately sidestep so he was slightly in front of Spock. The blond nodded his head once, putting forth an expression that managed to be serious but not intimidating. “I'm Captain James T. Kirk.”

“Romulanura!” the female hissed again, stepping forward from in back of Ji'ira and craning her neck towards his right shoulder. Before the Enterprise crew beamed down, they had affixed tiny chips within their ears for the purpose of language translation. Now that they were completely through the transport process, the word registered. As Jim expected, it meant “Romulan”.

Without looking in her direction, Ji'ira raised his left hand with fingers adorned by rings of different gemstones across his chest to silence her. He walked forward with a solemn expression, dropping his hands and shuffling his digits loosely before his thighs as he approached the visitors. Gone was the warmth so prevalent when they spoke over video communication earlier. Instead, a sense of tension and perhaps even paranoia seeped into the ambiance, needling at everyone and lingering.

“Captain Kirk,” Ji'ira addressed the blond, his voice mildly deep and chin raised proudly even though he was the same height as Jim. “My brothers and I extend a welcome to our home world.”

“You have our our gratitude,” Jim replied, staring into Ji'ira's crystalline blue eyes as he spoke before flickering them up to the lot standing in the background. Two were inaudibly whispering to each other. “...Allow me to introduce my counterparts.”

Jim motioned to his left with an open palm facing up. “This is Doctor Leonard McCoy, my Chief Medical Officer. And this,” he continued as he then moved his hand to his right. “is Mister Spock, filling both roles of First Officer and Chief Science Officer.”

McCoy leered as his shoulders leaned forward slightly, his eyes widening. Clearly, he had also put one and one together that the Akdjura thought Spock was Romulan and they were somehow not accepting of that fact. “Pleasure to meet you,” he drawled, his tone low.

Ji'ira studied McCoy before turning his attention back to Spock. “Captain Kirk, you did not inform us you have relations with the Romulans.”

Kirk's serious expression broke slightly, his eyebrows arching in subtle surprise as only one of Spock's elevated in the usual fashion when someone piqued his curiosity. The situation was a fine display of satire, both parties holding suspicion of each other for having the same secretive ties. Jim kept his strong shoulders back, a confident reply falling from his lips, “No, you're misunderstanding something. Mister Spock isn't Romulan.”

“But his ears. His eyebrows.” Ji'ira insisted as he pointed one finger at Spock, shifting his attention back to Jim's face.

McCoy found himself oddly put off by that comment, only because the Akdjura themselves shared the same shapely pointed features. He wouldn't admit it, but a bit of defensiveness rose within his chest. Though he had quipped about Spock's Vulcan anatomy countless times in the past, hearing someone else say it was a bit different, especially when it was in negative connotation. Biting his lip, he fought off the urge to snap, “Look at your own!” Instead, the doctor shifted his gaze to Jim in time to see the corners of the Captain's lips quirk up into a minute smile.

“Romulans aren't the only ones with pointed ears and eyebrows,” Kirk declared, the irony of who he was speaking to not escaping him. “You see, Mister Spock is Vulcan.”

As if someone took the stiff shoulders of the atmosphere and massaged them, the tension dissipated with a collective sound of sharp breaths being drawn into Akdjurian lungs. Ji'ira's finely pointed eyebrows raised in surprise, the same expression washing over the four behind him. “Vulcan?!” he reiterated, the word airily riding out of his mouth. The inner corners of his brows then elevated, entirely softening the shape of his elven eyes.

“Correct,” Spock confirmed as Ji'ira seemed to gaze at him in wonder, surprise still written across his features. Jim maintained silence as he observed the Akdjurian man remaining still as if he were attempting to affirm something within himself by reading Spock's deadpan expression. Suddenly, as if he found the inner peace he sought, Ji'ira's shoulders fell into relaxation.

“Well, have you never seen a Vulcan before?” McCoy questioned, his arms unraveling from before his chest as he began feeling more comfortable without explanation. He chalked it up to the tensity melting away from the group of aliens standing before him. No one wanted to face off with angry aliens, after all. Especially not his nerves.

With a shake of his head, Ji'ira faced McCoy and replied, “No. But this makes your visit much more significant.”

“And you,” Kirk interjected then, raising his chin. “Do you have ties to the Romulans?”

Ji'ira drew in a breath with his narrow nose. His pale pink lips pulled into a line but then gently parted. “Captain Kirk, our people have no dealings with the Romulan Star Empire,” he began as he raised a hand and waved it to the four behind him, all still appearing to be quite smitten by Spock. “You see, we disagree with any race that wishes to inject... chaos into our peaceful society. However. We are, unfortunately, tied to the Romulan people though. Not by trade, treaty, or choice... by ancestry.”

Spock's mouth opened then, his eyes widening in the slightest. Before he could speak his mind, Ji'ira nodded and continued, “Oh yes, Mister Spock. It means our roots are also Vulcan.”

The element of surprise shifted from one group to the other with McCoy's eyes widening and his jaw squaring. Kirk's mouth opened just slightly and he kept his attention pinned upon the lithe blond man before him. Just as he was about to ask how that could be possible, the question came out of Spock's mouth, though using different words and not even posed as an inquiry. “There is no instance of Akdjurian people or culture in Vulcan history texts.”

Ji'ira's eyes fell closed as he nodded, a soft smile overtaking his face, “Indeed. We have much to discuss together.”

Lifting his face, he half-turned to the those waiting in back of him. “Allow me to introduce my fellow council members. From left to right, Le'ina. Ma'elna, Na'adara, Ka'alma.”

The Captain offered a nod, a cordial soft smile pulled across his lips as he surveyed all of them.

Female, male, male, female. For the first time since they beamed down, Jim allowed himself to observe the physical beauty of the Akdjura. Each of the council members was a striking image of elegance and grace. They each had narrow, high cheekbones, sparkling eyes of different shades, perfectly sculpted noses, and lusciously full lips. Their hair, like Ji'ira, was long, healthy, and shimmering in the light.

Unlike Ji'ira, though, no other was blond. Le'ina's face and torso were framed by voluminous curled chocolate brown locks, tumbling about her and softening her appearance even further. Ma'elna's long reddish hair was pulled back into a ponytail, long pieces falling along the sides of his face. Na'adara allowed his black locks to hang freely, reaching his waist. And Ka'alma's head was adorned by an ample braided black bun.

Diamond-like jewels were applied to their foreheads, gemstones adorned their ears and were strung about their necks. Their white robes were lined with thin vine-like swirls of silver, causing their figures to nearly glow in the light of the room.

And the room itself – Expensive, floor tiled in marble, ceilings garnished by intricate chandeliers, a fresh scent of some kind in the air... Speaking of the air, it was erring on the side of chilly. Jim had noted it immediately when they beamed down and found himself worrying if Spock would be warm enough. As the Akdjura were unable to feel, there would be no need for temperature regulation. It was mid-afternoon on the planet, and he wondered just how cold it would get at night.

“Come, then,” Ji'ira spoke. “Join us. Let's speak over our meal.”

The Akdjura filed out of the room, trailed closely by the Enterprise landing party. As they exited the room, McCoy turned to his Captain and said, “Jesus, Jim. They're Vulcans! If I knew this was going to be a hobgoblin convention, I would've given my ticket to Scotty.”

Kirk offered him a smile, not because he found his grumbling amusing but rather, he knew that deep down, McCoy really did enjoy Spock's company. Furthermore, despite his frequent jocular comments, he had a strong respect for the Vulcan and certainly was no bigot.

As he stepped out of the small room they beamed into, Kirk's eyes fell upon the the view before him: an exquisite hallway with a pattern of dark brown beams stretching from the floor and slanted to a point in the middle of the ceiling. Attached to each beam was a thin strip of lights, softly illuminating the hallway and making the sandstone color adorning the walls glow between the beams. A burgundy carpet ran down the middle of the floor, which still looked like marble. Jim couldn't even see the end to it.

“Jesus!” McCoy muttered under his breath as he took the view in, raising his head and looking around.

As they walked in silence down the hall, Jim looked up over his shoulder at Spock. He was expressionless as always and he kept his face forward as he walked. Deep down, though, Jim wondered what implications this new discovery would have. If the Akdjura were actually part Vulcan and the fact was somehow never recorded, what else would they find? Disbelief flooded him. It was an impossible thought that something this significant would be missing from Vulcan history, but somehow, for some reason he couldn't understand, he was inclined to believe Ji'ira's words.

After he turned his attention forward again, Jim brushed his elbow gently into Spock's arm. Spock lowered his eyes to the floor for a moment before raising them back to where they were previously.

~

The walk to the dining hall hadn't been long, but it was incredible. They had gone past an enormous window overlooking a large city which appeared more like a painting from a storybook than reality. The Akdjura had a taste for immaculate architecture, flawless artistry applied to every facet of design and every millimeter of space. Elegance was something not reserved just for the high council, but the culture of the entire Akdjurian people.

When they arrived at a pair of two large double doors, Ji'ira threw them open and the room was revealed. It was large and just as breathtaking as every other sight on the way. Chandeliers flickered above, casting dim light upon a large rectangular table lined by bulky chairs with intricate designs carved into their backs.

Ji'ira and his company settled down on one side of the table while Kirk, Spock, and McCoy did the same on the other. It was surprisingly soft and alarmingly comfortable – so much that McCoy looked down after he sank into it. There was an empty chair at the head.

“Minister Dalma'a normally sits there,” Le'ina explained when she noticed Jim looking at it.

“Unfortunately, the Minister has entered a sudden and unexpected meditative trance,” Ji'ira spoke up as several men entered the room holding polished silver platters. They were dressed well and looked just as important as the council. What kind of world could exist where even a servant looked like a king? As a bounty of sustenance was placed upon the table, he added, “I apologize. It may be two additional days before the meditation breaks. I hope it is not an inconvenience...”

A servant lifted the covering off one platter and McCoy squinted, ducking his head slightly to get a better look at the food. Jim shook his head, “It's no inconvenience. We have no high priority business in the immediate future that would prevent us from staying here for another day or so.”

Jim shifted his eyes to the plate that McCoy was studying. It looked like a collection of different colored shapes, arranged in a way that was pleasing to the eye. A red liquid was spilled into the chiseled glass that rested before each person then, each one at a time by a servant.

“They are native vegetables. And in your glass, a beverage made from crushed fruit.” Ka'alma spoke. “They are nontoxic, but please feel free to verify that on your own.”

Jim couldn't help but crack a smile at how bluntly she spoke. McCoy needed no second invitation and so procured his tricorder. After analyzing the ingredients, he confirmed, “Yep, looks like all the healthy stuff we can get back home. This is really how ya should be eating all the time, Jim...”

The grin was still present on Kirk's face as he ignored McCoy's comment – He knew very well it would annoy him in the same way it did when he tuned out nutritional lectures – and lifted his glass. “In our culture, we often start dinner with our friends doing something we call a toast,” Jim explained. “To honor something special happening.”

Spock and McCoy took hold of their glasses and, a little confused, the Akdjura lifted their own.

“To the start of a very long-lasting, peaceful friendship,” Kirk spoke and gently clicked his glass with Ji'ira's. The others followed suit and then they drank. The flavor was immediately recognizable: dry red wine.

“Amen to that,” McCoy mumbled as he put his glass down.

“Mister Spock, you don't speak very much,” Ji'ira noted as he began to scoop a heap of some sort of green grassy vegetable on his white plate.

“I typically yield to Captain Kirk in the art of conversation,” Spock replied. “I hope you do not misinterpret my silence as disinterest or indifference. I am, in fact, very interested in learning more of your ancestry.”

“Naturally,” came the reply as Ji'ira wound the food between a two-pronged apparatus. “We are equally as intrigued by you, Mister Spock. You are the seam which stitches together our past and present.” He brought what McCoy thought to be dried grass to his mouth and began chewing.

“Perhaps we should begin by telling our story. Undoubtedly, you have many questions,” Na'adara posed as he brought a bejeweled hand up to push stray black hair from his face. His voice was deepest of all.

Kirk's eyes slid to the side as he watched McCoy master the art of stabbing a slippery vegetable with the pronged utensil and bringing it to his lips. Jim attempted to do the same and failed, immediately abandoning the idea and going after something more easily obtained. Spock appeared to have no issues eating either. Grandstanders!

“May I assume that you are aware of the fact that Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry?” Na'adara inquired, directing the question to the two humans across the table. McCoy instantly nodded his head and responded rather strongly with, “Absolutely! Spock here never lets us forget about his logical Vulcan roots.”

Jim speared something that looked like a carrot and spoke, “Yes, Vulcan history is something Stafleet Academy cadets are required to study. It was a revolt against Surakian teachings that divided the race. The oppositional group left Vulcan to seek out their own world and eventually founded Romulus.”

“Impressive,” Na'adara commented. “And that is where the Akdjurian story begins... and why, as Mister Spock noted earlier, there is no mention of our existence in Vulcan texts. Our ancestors were part of the oppositional group you mentioned... They landed upon Romulus looking for a better life, but all they found was the same that they left on Vulcan before Surak. War erupted immediately. Desolation followed. Brother turning on brother for the sake of his own advancement. And thousands upon thousands died. It was then that our earliest ancestors realized that there had to be another way... A way that was not the purging of all emotion. A way that was not the purging of all logic. A way that was not Vulcan, or Romulan.”

Spock had ceased eating as he listened intently. The picture had finally come full circle and he stated, “And so your ancestors took flight again to search for a new world in which they could live the way they wished.”

Na'adara nodded. “Precisely, Mister Spock. And not too far away, they landed on this very planet. We learned, you see, from the mistakes of the Romulans that too much interpersonal connection is detrimental. It causes imbalance amongst people. Envy. Hatred. War. And war is not something that would be written into our history again.

But unlike Surak, we were not willing to forgo all emotion. There was much beauty to be appreciated and loved around us. To achieve a perfectly balanced mind, our forefathers spent lifetimes in meditation, an action which increased our telepathic abilities astronomically. Hundreds of years ago, we became so accustomed to meditation and no contact with each other that our ability to sense touch began to dull.

As our civilization advanced, we found new ways of reproducing through genetic engineering, eliminating the need for taking a mate and all societal problems that stem from it. Two generations ago, our people stopped being able to process the sensation of feeling. Today, no one can. We are born, live, and die singularly.”

Seeing what appeared to be a grave look upon McCoy's face, Ma'elna took over. “We've replaced that which causes imbalance amongst people, instead dedicating our lives to studying, creating beauty, and moving everyone in the same direction for a better future. To us, there is nothing more important than the preservation of tomorrow. But not just its preservation... its betterment.”

“Fascinating.” Jim had been waiting for it, and the word finally left Spock's lips.

“This is why we are so receptive to join The United Federation of Planets, Captain Kirk,” Ji'ira said. “Right now, we belong to no faction. Our planet is contained in a solar system which, itself, has no container. Instead, it hangs in limbo between Romulan and Klingon space. It's time to change that.”

“From the sound of that, both have tried to enter negotiations with you. What happened?” Jim asked.

“We are not interested in entering relations with others who wish to disrupt the balance of our society, literally thousands of years in age. Akdjurian minds are able to sense intentions which are not pure. We sense only purity from you and your crew, Captain. You do not wish to conquer us,” Ji'ira stated. “As for the others. The Romulans arrived first. So few of us left Romulus that they did not even realize we share ancestry. They threatened us. The Klingons came next, years later. They also threatened us. Both left empty-handed.”

“Did they not return?” Spock inquired. “It is unlikely for either side to give up after one attempt.”

“Let's just say...” the blond Akdjurian man began slowly. “...We can be rather persuasive when the need arises.”

“Did you enjoy our food?” Ka'alma asked suddenly changing the subject and addressing McCoy.

“Why, yes. It was... healthy,” the doctor replied, a smile plastered across his face.

“Is your food much different?” she inquired next.

McCoy turned his face to the side slightly, his smile widening a little. “Yes and no. Ya see, we have this kinda food back on our planet. They're called vegetables.” His hand moved in a circular motion in the air. “Healthy, grow in the ground, similar to what you eat.” He slapped Jim on the shoulder. “Captain Kirk here needs to eat more of them but he doesn't. He's too busy ingesting things that are more flavorful but that'll also make him fat later on in life.”

“Psht,” Kirk scoffed and shot him a look. “I'll never be fat.”

“Famous last words, Jimboy!” McCoy stated, his grin remaining and gaze still fixed on Ka'alma.

Ka'alma's brows knitted down in wonder. “What do you mean by 'more flavorful'?”

“Oh, things like a nice juicy steak with puhtatas on the side.”

“Steak?” Ji'ira repeated. “Puh...taytas?”

“Yeah, it's cooked meat with a starchy vegetable coated in butter – which is meltable fat by the way. Delicious!”

“I see. It is in our best interest to avoid the use of fire with our inability to feel heat or pain. It is why all of our food is served raw. However, I hope to try steak someday,” the blond spoke in reply.

As McCoy went on to tell all the Akdjura in his presence that they can come visit him in Georgia anytime and he'll fix em up right, Jim turned to Spock. He wanted to ask the Vulcan for his thoughts on the interesting matter of discovering these new descendants, but now certainly was not the correct time. He also wondered if he was comfortable with the current temperature. Jim already knew Spock would insist he was feeling fine, even if he wasn't.

Instead of wasting his breath, Kirk opted to gently lay a warm hand on Spock's shoulder – which felt, as he worried, cold – and softly smiled at him. This action did not go unnoticed by Ji'ira, who was unable to fathom why the Captain was touching his First Officer at all and let alone in front of others. How peculiar.

The conversation moved on with Jim and McCoy describing Earth and their academy life at Starfleet. Now that he was paying attention to it, Ji'ira noticed Jim touched Spock multiple times, sometimes seemingly without his knowledge. Kirk's elbow hit him at least twice as he used his hands when he was talking... Once his fingertips did too when he raised his hand and let it flop to the side as he was proving a point which McCoy was intent on arguing over. Spock had remained stoic and unaffected at all times.

The blond Akdjurian squinted his eyes, his brain losing focus on the conversation as Jim smiled. His pearly white teeth showed as he laughed, hazel eyes closing slightly. Short strands of hair fell over his forehead. His skin was a golden, sandy tone. But there was something more about him than just looks. Jim had the ability to capture a room with his mannerisms, conversation, and reactions. ...And he unnecessarily touched people. Not just any people. The Vulcan. Ji'ira found himself wondering why he was even so intrigued by that.

The pieces just didn't fit together. His telepathy allowed him to emit waves of influence on others. Ji'ira found it odd that this human, who had no such skill, had a strange effect on he himself. He wanted to listen to him go on speaking about a breeze blowing through wheat fields in Iowa, even though it was useless data. But most of all, he wanted to understand why it was necessary to touch others, and why it was so acceptable to do so. The Akdjura went years without it. If only he could read minds...

Ji'ira's face raised.

“That was great,” McCoy declared, rubbing his midsection. The plates in the middle were picked clean. “I gotta say, I really enjoyed what you served us. Like I said, people from where we come from usually aren't too keen to eat this kinda stuff.”

“Captain Kirk,” Ji'ira spoke up. “The hour is not too late. I wonder if you would be interested in seeing a museum containing a collection of ancient artifacts. I would like to ask for Mister Spock's assistance with identifying an object that might be of Vulcan manufacture.”

Spock's eyebrows elevated in interest and Jim nodded, obliging, “We'd be honored, Ji'ira.”

“Excellent. It is right here in this building,” he replied, standing gracefully.

“Pardon us. It's been a great pleasure,” Kirk said to the council members with a smile as he stood. Spock and McCoy followed his action, making sure to slide their chairs back in place.

As they followed Ji'ira to the door, the Akdjurian looked back at them and said, “It has been a mystery to us since long ago. Your assistance will be invaluable, Mr. Spock.”

“It will be my pleasure,” replied the Vulcan.

The four men disappeared into the hallway, the heavy doors behind them closing. No one, not even Ji'ira himself, could understand at that moment just how fitting of a response it was that Spock gave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ak'djurian Pronunciation Guide
> 
> Ak'jdu: AHK-joo  
> Ak'jdura: AHK-joo-rah  
> Ji'ira: Gee-EE-ra  
> Dalma'a: DAL-ma-a  
> Le'ina: Leh-EE-na  
> Ma'elna: Mah-EL-na  
> Ka'alma: Kah-AL-ma  
> Na'adara: Na-AH-dah-rah
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Star Trek. This piece is purely a work of fiction and I am not profiting from it in any way. I do not consent to my work being reposted or reuploaded, in full or in part, to any other website without my permission.


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